


i see stars

by orphan_account



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, casually corrupt law enforcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hakuryuu, we have to actually inhale the fumes if we want to get high,” Judal explains.</p><p>(Alternatively: in an effort to disprove his boring reputation, Hakuryuu, a police officer, decides to do some wildly illegal things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see stars

**Author's Note:**

> look, i don't even know. i just wanted to write some modern au fluff and then all this random stuff happened. basically the (kou) rens are this super shady but wealthy and corrupt law enforcement family and hakuryuu works for them and there's a lot of behind the scenes power dynamics that are really fascinating but way too dark for this particular fic. judal was kind of their pet until he fell for ryuu instead and now the two of them are dating and living together and pretending they aren't completely in love with each other.   
>  **additional warnings** for backhanded societal homophobia, making light of hakuryuu's arm, and the worst depiction of getting high and having unprotected sex you've ever seen.

//

 

 

“You never do anything with me anymore,” Judal whines at Hakuryuu one afternoon.

Hakuryuu, pulling on socks and sticking guns sexily into holsters, looking generally badass with his prosthetic arm, does not grace him with an answer. Judal sprawls himself out across their shared futon and pouts as hard as he can possibly manage.

“Hakuryuuuuuuuuu. Where are you going?”

“Work.”

“It’s a Saturday!”

“Just because you don’t work on Saturdays doesn’t mean _I_ don’t work on Saturdays.” Hakuryuu straightens out his shirt and shrugs into the outer coat of his uniform. “Civic duty does not stop on weekends.”

“But you’ll go out drinking with your cousins again afterwards,” Judal points out. The tacit, implied _without me_ grabs hold somewhere around Hakuryuu’s ankle like a temperamental child.

Children. Hakuryuu shudders.

“It’s necessary for my further development within the force, Judal.”

Judal giggles. Hakuryuu always gets funnier than he means to when he talks about work because he does it so moodily, like he’s aware of how much like an action movie he sounds. Judal thinks it’s kind of hot. Hakuryuu maintains the appearance that he doesn’t like it when Judal finds it hot -- he calls it ‘inappropriate’ and it usually ends up with Judal bedding down on the floor.

“ _I_ think it’s better if you refuse Kouen for once,” Judal says, wrapping up the last of his laughter and swallowing it. “He’s not a yes-man kind of dude, right?”

“He is not any kind of ‘dude’, Judal.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Judal.”

“Aw, come on, Hakuryuu. Say no once in a while, it keeps things heated up and spicy. Hot and spicy. Ha, ha.” Judal rolls over onto his back. “Kougyoku thinks you’re cute, and Kouen’s _boring_ , so you’re probably fine for now, but Kouha _hates_ boring people, so be more lively around him, yeah?”

Hakuryuu’s eyebrow twitches. “Are you calling me boring?”

“Well, no.”

“ _Judal_.”

“You’re not boring to _me_. But you’re so stiff around other people, why’s that, huh?” Judal finally sits up, lurching up over the back of the futon to make a grab for Hakuryuu’s collar, messing up his recently straightened out shirt in the process. He kisses the underside of Hakuryuu’s jaw, and then moves lower to the softness at the side of his neck.

Hakuryuu starts to make a feeble movement to push Judal away, but seems to think better of it; Judal grins and sucks hard into his skin.

“There, now you look less boring,” Judal declares happily, pulling back and inspecting the rapidly darkening mark on Hakuryuu’s slender neck.

“I cannot _believe_ you just did that.”

“Oh, really?”

“You’re impossible,” Hakuryuu tells him, but he doesn’t bother covering it up as he heads off to work.

*

“Smoke?” is the first thing Koumei asks him when he gets into the office. Hakuryuu stares first at the lighter, held loosely in languid fingers, and then at the disinterested freckles on Koumei’s nose, and then frowns at both.

“Isn’t this illegal?”

Koumei shrugs. Evidently the law against recreational drug usage doesn’t apply to him or his siblings. Hakuryuu makes to scowl, the way he usually does when Koumei approaches him with a very interesting but often completely impractical idea for heightened security systems, but then he remembers Judal's offhand advice.

Kind of.

“Later,” Hakuryuu tells him instead of a flat out ‘no’ -- Koumei looks surprised, and then smiles a little, his dulled insomniac eyes brightening.

“How’s Judal?” Koumei inquires after a slow, sweet drag of whatever illegal substance he has in his hand. Hakuryuu has to take a moment to appreciate the fact that they are literally at the police station -- but since Koumei is his cousin, and that side of the family owns practically the entire rather homophobic city, and also turns a blind eye to whatever he and Judal get up to during his downtime, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Well-fed,” Hakuryuu settles for, the edge of his mouth creeping up. Koumei looks at him in amusement and then walks airily out of the office.

“Join us down at the Imperial after work?” he calls over his shoulder.

Hakuryuu shrugs.

“Hakuei might be there,” Koumei adds.

“All the more reason for me not to be there, then,” Hakuryuu says -- Hakuei means well, and he loves his sister, but the idea of sitting through an evening of tasteless alcohol and Kouen trying to prove he can be drunk _and_ charming is almost too much to bear on its own. He can’t imagine actually witnessing it in person.

This apparently makes Koumei laugh harder, although it could just be the drugs talking. “Alright, see you Monday, then.”

Hakuryuu nods, but then --

“Y-- Koumei.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I get one of those -- drugs?”

Koumei nearly snorts his laugh up his nose, but he agrees, wiping tears from his eyes, returns a few minutes later with a bag hidden up his sleeve. Hakuryuu pay attention with some sick fascination as he explains, with many a mimic, the joint rolling process. “Tell them you confiscated it if anyone asks,” he says, his parting advice, and then leaves to dream his brains out upstairs.

*

Hakuryuu isn’t quite sure how he makes it home, or how he managed to end up at the Imperial before that anyway, knocking back shot after shot and thinking that it would be great to challenge Kouen to a chopstick duel. (No one had won the duel, but Kouen did manage to stick his chopstick into someone’s eye, to a standing ovation.)

That was where Judal had found him, anyway, showing up at half past eleven looking extremely surprised and sober. Koumei was a liar. Hakuei had not shown up, or maybe she did already leave, but Kouen was there, looking forlorn and stroking his beard, and then Kouha had offered him something very sweet with something very poisonously alcoholic mixed into it and Kougyoku had complimented his hickey and --

“Judal,” Hakuryuu murmurs into the hood of Judal’s coat. “Juuuuuuuu-dal.” His laughter feels soft and fluffy, duckling-pale. “Judaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal.”

“You are _so_ drunk,” Judal says with some glee. They’re right outside their apartment now, under a glowing yellow moon, and Hakuryuu’s draped himself over Judal’s back like a towel. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“I tried t’say nooooooo,” Hakuryuu says quietly, but Judal winces like his eardrum’s been blasted. “But I did it wrong, ‘cause then I ended up at the club. I’m not boring, right?”

“Uh-huh. Let’s get you upstairs, okay?” Hakuryuu feels himself being dragged down from starry heights and then hoisted up by a warm, living tree. Oh, wait. That’s Judal again. He’s being carried through the building door by Judal now, and it feels very nice.

“Where…. we going?” Hakuryuu asks.

“Home,” Judal singsongs.

This does not sit well with Hakuryuu. He frowns. “But I want a bed.”

“We have a bed. It’s a fun, fold-up kind of bed.”

“A real bed,” Hakuryuu insists. “Like from when I was little. With a headboard.”

“We’re saving up for furniture,” Judal reminds him. It is true; their shabby apartments currently holds the cheapest, most shabby looking furniture available in the entire _country_ , but they’ve always taken some pride in it. Bought with their own system-defeating money. Take that, society!

“A bed,” Hakuryuu says, feeling extremely warm and fuzzy, “so I can fuck you properly on it.”

Judal inhales too much air. They crowd into the elevator as he hacks and coughs up a storm. “Oooookay, time for sleep. Enjoy this while you can, you’re going to have _the_ hangover of hangovers tomorrow.”

For an answer, Hakuryuu lurches up and takes hold of Judal’s shirt. With his teeth. He stays like that until Judal is wrangling their door open and setting him down on their sad and not-fun futon. There’s a vase with what looks like a fresh flower on the coffee table.

Hakuryuu sits up. His head seems to do a pirouette, gracefully, like a prima ballerina. “Hey… Judal.”

“Yeah?”

“I got you a present,” he says, cat satisfaction drawing a grin across his face.

“Mhm,” Judal goes back to hanging up their clothes.

“No, a real present.”

“Go to sleep, okay, Ryuu?”

“ _No_ ,” Hakuryuu says. He opens his mouth to make another protest, but falls asleep before he can form the words.

*

It’s three in the afternoon when Hakuryuu manages to drag himself up and towards the bathroom. Miraculously, he does not throw up. Unfortunately for him, the headache is prevalent and vindictive.

Judal’s working today, the filthy hypocrite, so Hakuryuu manages to make himself a salad, light and crisp and bland-tasting, forcing it down so that he isn’t heaving up bile later on, but that takes enough effort that he’s reduced to curling up on the futon for the rest of the afternoon.

By the time Judal gets home Hakuryuu is half-asleep, the television on low volume murmuring news at his head vaguely. With a mighty struggle he rouses himself.

“Hey,” he says. One step at a time.

Judal raises an eyebrow at him and then heads into the repurposed bedroom.

A second later, Hakuryuu hears the air mattress being blown up.

He stumbles into the room with his hand on his forehead. “Judal?”

The air mattress rises like a monster ascending. They haven’t used it since forever, since they moved in basically, so it smells a little funky -- dust and plastic and closet. Hakuryuu tries again. “Judal?”

The buzzing stops. Judal turns to him with a strange look on his face. “I found something,” he says slowly, “in your uniform.”

“Huh?”

Judal fishes something out of his own jacket. It’s a plastic bag with his name on it, because Ren Koumei deserves a painful, drawn-out death. Full of --

“Look familiar?” he asks.

Hakuryuu gapes. “Are those… _drugs_?”

“They’re _your_ drugs.”

Hakuryuu stands there until he realizes -- oh, hell. Oh dear. He fidgets in the doorway, not exactly ashamed, but not exactly proud, either -- just being. Judal finishes blowing up the air mattress and then dangles the bag in front of his face. “Hey, what I said yesterday… you know I was kidding, right? You’re not boring, Ryuu.”

Hakuryuu half-tosses his head and half ducks it into his neck. The result looks strange, a spasm. “I know. I wouldn’t do this unless I meant to.”

“You want to do drugs?”

“No.” He lets his eyes slide towards the floor. “Maybe. With you. Once.”

“Baby,” Judal says, “you don’t need drugs to get high with me.”

It’s exceedingly embarrassing, and Hakuryuu punches him in the shoulder for it.

*

The thing is, they end up rolling a joint anyway.

Judal spreads all his trade tools out on the coffee table. He goes about doing everything smoothly, not exactly like how Koumei had taught Hakuryuu to, but the joint gets fixed tight and even and looks very illegal, sitting there innocently on the coffee table.

“Okay,” Hakuryuu says, after a few moments spent admiring it.

Judal looks at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

They do nothing.

Hakuryuu picks up a book and starts flipping through it like it’ll calm his nerves. He looks calm, though -- his hands are steady as they get. Time to do illegal things, he thinks. He stares at the joint.

“Hakuryuu, we have to actually inhale the fumes if we want to get high,” Judal explains.

*

There is no battering ram at his door.

He’d expected some kind of siren to go off and then for the entire police force to storm in and seize them on the spot. Nothing of the sort happens, though; it’s just him and Judal, crushed together into the futon because Judal said it was _stealthier_ that way.

“This is okay,” comes the husky whisper from the Judal-shaped pile of limbs in the corner. “Hey, Hakuryuu. Hey. Hakuryuu.”

“What? What, what? What?”

“Do you wanna know why,” Judal takes a breath and then suddenly he’s rising up into Hakuryuu’s space even more, warm and a mess of long hair, “d’you wanna know why I was blowing up the air mattress?”

Judal’s hair is like silk, or something else super rich. Like black gold. It would be grand to just kind of touch it, so Hakuryuu does. “Yeah, why?”

“‘Cause you said you wanted to fuck me properly,” Judal sits back, extremely pleased with himself, “and that’s the closest thing we had to a bed.”

Hakuryuu nods, as if this was the smartest thing Judal has ever said. Which could be true.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Do you wanna? Do you wanna fuck? On an air mattress?” Judal doesn’t wait for him to answer. He’s already struggling to pull his shirt over his head, and he’s already breathless from the struggle. It _is_ awfully endearing, Hakuryuu thinks, watching his elbow get stuck. And air mattresses are fun.

Because of the air, and stuff.

“Okay,” Hakuryuu says, and then they walk, or perhaps teleport, into the bedroom-turned-extra-storage/study but mostly empty room with an extra closet to stash guns in.

The only sheets Judal could find were these pale, sky-blue ones with little clouds on them. Hakuryuu thinks they’re a present for some occasion from some person, possibly Hakuei.

“These sheets are _tripping_ ,” Judal says in an awed whisper, flinging himself into the middle of the mattress. It bounces a little bit. “It’s like I’m swimming but on solid ground. Hey, kiss me?”

“Okay,” says Hakuryuu, and lowers himself cautiously onto the mattress and does so. Their lips bump together kind of painfully because Judal is fidgety, giggling every time Hakuryuu blinks, but then Hakuryuu takes Judal’s face into his hands and holds it _still_ , and it goes better.

Until Judal puts his arms around Hakuryuu’s neck and then yanks the two of them down by falling over backwards.

Hakuryuu is pretty sure the entire galaxy rushes through his head and that he’s going to crash into the sun and burn up to death, so he screws his eyes shut and braces himself. All that happens, though, is tumbling forwards onto Judal, opening his eyes and looking down to see Judal grinning up at him lying on a sea of clouds.

Ooooohhhhh, he gets it -- it’s not the _real sky_ , just a bed. Kind of.

Judal grabs at his neck again and drags him closer to kiss his nose, gently, but it makes heat stir in the pit of his stomach.

“Move, move,” he hisses, pulling himself away to peel off his clothes. It’s harder than it should be, because Judal whines and latches onto his knee. His skin is a canvas of scars, but Judal nods appreciatively and splays his fingers over them, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the faded ones and kissing the ones that look fresh before shoving apart his legs to nose at the inside of his thighs.

All the Kou Rens like to joke that Judal is kind of Hakuryuu’s puppy, but they’re closer to the truth than they probably think. Judal would gladly eat out of Hakuryuu’s hand and lick his feet and possibly wear a collar, too, if he didn’t always have better ideas. Hakuryuu blinks out the haziness in his eyes, except it’s still there -- a satin sheen plastered up against his eyeballs that makes everything look splendidly beautiful and curious and full of living mobile particles. Judal, too: more alive than usual, smiling eagerly as he shakes his hair out of the way and goes down on him.

Whoa.

“Whoa,” Hakuryuu whispers, because that’s _unholy_ , the feeling of Judal’s mouth on him, all burning like dragonfire and wet and amazing. Judal _loves_ doing this to him, and he can see it by the blissed out expression on Judal’s face, lazy-eyed and happy. “Oh, that’s -- that’s nice.”

 _Nice_? Hakuryuu can do better than that. “That’s fucking hot,” he groans, reaching out with his good hand and petting Judal’s hair, “fuck.”

Judal swallows and then lifts up his head to wipe at his chin. “Oooooh, Hakuryuu’s cussing.”

“Yeah…” Hakuryuu feels vaguely like he should be embarrassed about that, but all he actually wants to do is shove Judal back down, so he does that, and then fucks his mouth until he comes, a mess of white striping across Judal’s flushed cheeks and raw mouth.

Judal makes a face, but swipes up come with his fingers and sticks them into his mouth anyway, sucking at them pensively. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Whatddya mean?” Hakuryuu sinks back bonelessly, afterglow making him feel like he’s made of feathers and joy. He’s probably smiling right now. Probably. He can’t really tell, but the way his cheeks hurt probably means that he’s smiling. He lifts up his arm, the prosthetic one, and says, vaguely, “Is this hand yours or mine?”

“You are _high_ ,” Judal notes. “It’s yours.” He sits back, too, waiting for a few minutes before saying, “what happened to you fucking me?”

“Tired,” Hakuryuu mumbles.

“Well, stop being tired!” The weightier Hakuryuu’s eyelids get, the more fidgety Judal gets. “I’m not _done_ here.”

Hakuryuu moves a hand in the general direction of Judal’s crotch. It doesn’t quite reach. “Give me food,” he says after a stone age has passed by, “and I’ll think about it.” Then he looks around the room and gets a better idea. “Or, hey, you can do it to me instead.”

“But _I’m_ tired,” Judal whines. He doesn’t look tired, though -- Hakuryuu opens his eyes a little more and sees that Judal is practically vibrating. Or maybe that’s just the drugs talking.

“No you’re not.”

“Whatever,” Judal settles onto his stomach, thinking.

Hakuryuu waits.

He counts, _one thousand and one nights, one thousand and two nights, one thousand and thr_ \--

“Okay, fine,” says Judal, “but only ‘cause you took your pants off first.” He rises up and starts fishing around in the drawers, and then comes back with a healthily used-up bottle of lube in his hands.

It only takes a few minutes after that for Hakuryuu to wake up properly again, the last bits of afterglow sleepiness rubbed away as Judal flips him over onto his stomach and preps him. He’s singing something under his breath, something about rivers and goldfish, and then his fingers find the right angle and Hakuryuu’s own breathy moans drown out everything else.

It’s a little too soon, Hakuryuu thinks, alarmed, as Judal leans over him, kissing down his spine and making remarks about bones and stars and flowers and sounding really freaking high. It’s a little too soon and Judal ends up being a little _too_ good at what he’s doing, because Hakuryuu doesn’t have time enough to choke out a warning before he’s coming again, twitching helplessly against Judal’s hand, crying a little because he’s so _empty_ , and he’d been waiting for so _much_.

Only after a minute passes does Hakuryuu realize what just happened.

“Well,” says Judal, his voice chillingly pleasant, “isn’t this _interesting_.”

Hakuryuu feels his blood run cold and then feather off into bits of ice. Blood ice. Ice chips?

The aching in his lower body is still there, though, so he looks over his shoulder to rasp out at Judal, “keep going.”

“But --”

“Keep.” Hakuryuu slides backwards. “ _Going_.”

“You’re being really,” Judal sighs, like he’s the one suffering here instead of the one about to fuck his boyfriend, “really illegal, tonight.”

He takes a generous helping of lube and slicks himself up, and Hakuryuu watches over his shoulder, mouth falling open and heart hammering at the sight of Judal touching himself like that. Then Judal pulls him back further, so that he’s nearly kneeling instead of on all fours, and slides inside all the way.

It feels like coming home.

“I’ve _missed_ this,” Judal says meaningfully, moving slowly because Hakuryuu is sensitive and prone to throwing hissy fits in the middle of sex if things don’t go his way more often than not. “This is so _good_. _You’re_ so good, Ryuu.” He’s taking things slow because it has been a while since they’ve done it this way, and Hakuryuu actually feels the caution tensing along his waist, where Judal’s hands are, careful not to make it hurt.

Hakuryuu sighs in contentment. Judal is always good, but sometimes he’s better than other times. Like now. The clouds dance before his very eyes, but Hakuryuu wants to see the stars.

“Faster,” he urges, getting the hang of the rhythm, groaning when Judal kisses his neck. “Yeah, like that… faster.”

“Take it easy,” Judal gasps, and then instead of pulling him back he’s pushing forwards, driving Hakuryuu down to his elbows, “don’t wanna-- _shit_ \-- don’t wanna finish too quickly,” his teeth nip sharply into the nape of Hakuryuu’s neck, and Hakuryuu jolts a little, “ _again_ , do we?”

Hakuryuu swears. Or tries to. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Judal laughs against his skin. “Yeah, alright, turn over for me, yeah? Wanna see your face when I make you mine--”

“ _Embarrassing_ ,” Hakuryuu has to say, before he can help himself, but he shudders as Judal pulls out and rolls over, nearly dies trying to grab around and push Judal back inside himself, “come on, come on, hurry up.”

“You look like,” and then they both hiss a little as Judal complies, sliding back in hard, “a little _princess_.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hakuryuu hooks his legs around Judal’s waist, and isn’t embarrassed about it; he just does everyone in his power to encourage Judal, bucking up his hips and relinquishing control of his voice. Judal shimmers over him like the sun itself, a burning hot sun, driving down into him hard and _perfect_.

Hakuryuu kind of falls in love with him a little bit, just then, when the motion of fucking gets washed under a deep, prevailing heat and the satin in his eyes hardens into diamonds and stars.

Then Judal says, reverently, “ _Hakuryuu_ ,” and crashes into him, stutters into stillness; his mouth trembles along Hakuryuu’s collarbone as he comes.

“Oh,” Hakuryuu replies-- he gets it. Judal’s breathing in hard pants, now collapsed damp on top of him, and maybe he’s still high as shit but Hakuryuu swears his body is a symphony singing his name, a thunderous drumroll of heartbeats and quick breaths and dark, dark beauty.

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” Judal whispers, “I’m really high.”

Hakuryuu takes back what he’d thought earlier about falling in love. “Get up and clean me up,” he says, unsympathetic.

“Good night,” Judal says, nuzzling his shoulder with damp, heavy hair, and falls asleep. Hakuryuu doesn’t have the heart to wake him back up.

*

Hakuryuu rises like the undead, several hours later, so hungry that he considers eating Judal for a worrying few seconds. He shoves Judal off of him before that can happen, waking him.

“I’m _starving_ ,” Judal half-slurs, blindly finding his way back to Hakuryuu, the way he always does. “Feed me.”

Hakuryuu would like to do that, or perhaps give into the sharp little tug in his chest and kiss his messy fringe, but he isn’t high anymore. He dies a little at the thought of someone walking into the room with the two of them like this, naked and loose-haired and utterly shameless in the _togetherness_ of it all. He says: “no.”

“You never do anything with me anymore,” Judal whines, and Hakuryuu gets a less pleasant, sharper tug in his chest at the completely unfounded accusation, the second one in as many days.

“Oh, really?” he asks, rolling over to settle himself on Judal, nudging apart his thighs.

The smile he gets in return is blinding, a galaxy in the making. “Yeah, really.”

 

//


End file.
